Roses
by 27dayz
Summary: As Ron attempts to dispell the awkwardness surrounding the aftermath of his kiss with Hermione, he stumbles upon a name for his future daughter.


Disclaimer: I do not own anything Harry Potter related.

Roses

Ron Weasley sat on the grass outside Hogwarts, staring at a lone rosebush growing against the Herbology greenhouses. It was an odd rosebush. Instead of growing only one colour of rose, this plant had three. Ron could very clearly see pink, yellow, and red roses. He tried to think of what the colours of each rose meant. He knew that red meant love. Yellow was friendship. But what did pink mean?

As he tried to think of it, he heard a noise. He whirled around with his wand outstretched, thinking of escaped death eaters or some other foe. There was nothing. He was alone and that's the way he wanted it. He had needed to get away from the crowded Great Hall. He couldn't bear to see his broken family comforting one another. It just cemented the fact that Fred really was dead. Ron wasn't ready to believe that his brother was really gone, that Fred Weasley would never again joke or laugh.

Although he thought it was absurd to compare himself to a rosebush, he had to admit that right now, he felt like the lone bush amongst the hundreds of plants on the grounds. He didn't know if it was even possible to feel so alone when you were surrounded by people. He heard another noise behind him and whirled around again. This time he came face to face with Hermione Granger.

"Still on alert?" she asked softly. Ron pocketed his wand and nodded.

"Hard not to be," he told her. She approached him and put her hand on his shoulder in a tentative gesture. He looked into her warm brown eyes and felt a funny feeling, a feeling that made him want to stay like this with her forever. Then he remembered that kiss and felt his ears redden at the memory. At the time, it seemed so amazing, so wonderful to finally have everything he had ever wanted in his arms. Now he realized the questions it arose. Had he and Hermione really taken their friendship to the next level? He watched as she turned to the rosebush.

"It's beautiful isn't it?" she asked him, to which he nodded. She continued, "It's called a Triose Bush. It's quite rare."

Ron nodded at this new piece of information and then asked, "What does the pink rose mean? I know that red is love and yellow is friendship, but what is pink?" he figured if anyone would know, it would be Hermione.

"A lot of people think it symbolizes a crush or something like that, but it can just mean that you simply admire someone," she answered.

"I see," he said. For a moment, they just stood there with the Triose Bush in between them, feeling the awkwardness of the situation. Ron contemplated the meanings of each rose and was struck by realization. He suddenly knew what he had to do to answer all of the questions that their kiss had brought up.

Very carefully, he plucked a yellow rose from the bush and presented it to Hermione, saying, "You know that your one of my best friends right? I may not say it enough, but I care about you, Hermione."

She smiled and said, "That's sweet, Ron. Thank you," she replied, taking the rose in her hands.

He noticed that her smile was small and did not reach her eyes. He intended to fix that. With the same care and tenderness as he had when he picked to yellow rose, Ron reached forwards and took the pink rose in his hands. He presented this too Hermione as well. She took it, but looked a little confused.

"I admire you, Hermione," Ron explained, "And I mean that in every sense of the word. You're a brilliant witch and a wonderful person. It would be hard not to be in complete awe of you."

She blushed, "Ron I…thank you," she managed to get out. He smiled at her.

A little bolder and braver, Ron turned to her and said, "And I've had a crush on you for a long time," he admitted. Hermione gasped, but he paid little attention. He gently plucked the red rose from the bush and held it out to her.

"I love you, Hermione," he told her, "Do you love me too?"

Hermione was at lost for words, so she simply did the thing Ron offered for her. She took his red rose. He grinned and kissed her.

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Eight years later, Hermione Weasley cradled a bundle of pink blankets in her arms. Although she was exhausted and sore, she was radiant. Her baby was perfect. Ten tiny fingers and ten tiny toes. The baby girl had little tuffs of red hair curled on her head. Like all babies, she had blue eyes. Hermione secretly hoped that she kept to blue eyes. She kind of liked the idea of her daughter looking like Ron.

She giggled a little when she thought of her husband. He had been beside himself when he saw his little girl. He had sat with them for a long time after the birth, finally tearing himself away when she had suggested that he go and tell their families the news. He was still gone, which made her wonder what he was up to. She expected that Harry and the other Weasley brothers had decided to help Ron celebrate.

The door finally opened and her husband crept in the room, careful not to disturb his baby girl. Hermione eyed him curiously.

"What do you have behind your back?" she asked. He looked like a naughty child who had just had his hand in the cookie jar. She couldn't help but giggle at him. Then he pulled one hand from behind his back and presented it to his love. It was a yellow rose.

"You know, above all else, you'll always be my best friend," he told her, "At least the best friend with benefits, anyways," he added, grinning suggestively. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Well seeing as how we have a child together, I would hope so," she said. He smiled and kissed her forehead. He then pulled a pink rose from behind his back.

"And I have never admired you more than I admire you right now," he said sincerely, now gently stroking his daughter's head. It amazed her that such a tall, big man could be so tender and loving.

"And you amaze me," she told him. He then produced a red rose and she readily took it.

"I love you," Ron said simply.

"And I love you," Hermione said back to him. He kissed her softly and tenderly. The baby in between them cooed a little. Ron broke away from his wife and kissed the baby's head.

"And Daddy hasn't forgot about you, my little rose," he whispered to his daughter. From behind his back, he produced a fourth rose. It was pure white. Innocence. Making sure there were no thorns or anything that could hurt his baby, Ron held the stem out to her and she wrapped her little fist around it. Ron beamed.

Lying back on her pillow, Hermione said softly, "I like it."

"Like what?" Ron asked, confused for a moment.

"Little Rose Weasley," she sighed contently.

Hermione and Ron stayed that way for a long time, just lying on their bed with the three roses and their most precious little Rose between them.

The End


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